


Never Have I Ever

by Anonymous



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Humor, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A secret of yours comes out when you and two other embassy secretaries play a drinking game: You've never had anyone go down on you before.Javier can change that.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 196
Collections: Anonymous





	Never Have I Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, never in my life had I imagined I'd be writing readerfic, but then Pedro Pascal happened. Oops.

You sat on the floor of the US Embassy, idly twirling the hem of your skirt between thumb and forefinger. As you stretched your weary legs, you silently thanked your morning self for wearing a pair of slip shorts under your skirt. The idea of only having your underwear between you and the grungy embassy carpet was not a thought you’d like to entertain.

It was pouring rain outside, so much so that you didn’t even want to walk to your car, let alone drive home in this storm. While waiting for it die down, you and two other embassy secretaries decided to play a little game.

Well, really, it was an excuse to drink, but it _was_ a game.

Colleen had snatched Agent Peña’s bottle of whiskey. She poured generous amounts into three coffee mugs and distributed them amongst yourselves.

The rules: The person who was “it” had to say something they’d never done. If you had done it, you had to take a drink.

Colleen went first. “Never have I ever got a tattoo on my ass,” she declared, raising her glass and giving your fellow secretary Tracy a knowing look.

“Low hanging fruit,” Tracy muttered. You had not had the pleasure of seeing Tracy’s ass tattoo, but apparently it was a sight to behold.

“Just drink,” Colleen prodded. 

With a roll of her eyes, Tracy knocked one back. She cleared her throat loudly before she spoke. “My turn. Never have I ever had sex outdoors.”

“Never should have told you about that,” Colleen sighed, taking a drink.

Quietly, you drank. Listen, you didn’t make great choices in high school, and you did it in the bed of your ex-boyfriend’s pickup truck under the stars. At the time, it felt romantic, but you were in a Denny’s parking lot, for Christ’s sake.

After a moment, you noticed Tracy and Colleen staring at you. Oh, right. Your turn.

“Never have I ever…” Shit. What was something that they definitely must have experienced that you haven’t?

Oh, you knew a good one. “Never have I ever had a guy eat me out,” you triumphantly declared with your mug held high, knowing you’d get both of them.

“ _What_?!” Tracy and Colleen said in unison.

“Drink,” you said with a smirk. They complied.

“I knew you were young, but damn,” Colleen remarked.

“My exes only ever wanted to stick their dicks in me,” you said with a shrug. Your grand total of two exes, one of which you never actually had sex with, the other with which you fucked in that goddamned Denny’s parking lot.

You realized too late that you said that last bit out loud.Tracy and Colleen burst into manic giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You ladies having fun?” You heard a voice call from the doorway.

You looked up from your seat on the floor and froze. Oh, _fuck_. It was Javi. One of the DEA agents tasked with taking down Escobar, and a massive fucking flirt to boot. It seemed like every other girl in the embassy got to be at the receiving end of his big brown eyes and dulcet tones—every girl but _you_. Part of you was relieved at that—but a bigger part of you was jealous.

“Shit, Peña, you’re still here?” Colleen said.

“I was looking for my whiskey,” he said, extending his hand expectantly.

Colleen handed the bottle to Javi with an innocent shrug. “Didn’t know it was yours,” she bluffed.

“It was on _my_ desk, sweetheart,” Javi tutted, and you felt your stomach flip at the endearment, despite it not being directed toward you.

You had calmed down enough from the surprise of his entry to really take in his appearance—his rust-red shirt was unbuttoned an obscene amount, revealing a tantalizing swath of skin. The shirt was carefully tucked into those jeans of his that hugged him in all the right places— _god_ , that man had beautiful thighs—and when you trailed your eyes back up to his face, he was looking right at you.

“You okay there?” Javi asked.

_Shit_. He totally caught you staring. “I’m fine,” you said. “You’re fine.”

Javi raised an eyebrow. You spluttered, feeling your face heat. “I mean, fine as in _okay_ —”

“You’re drunk,” Javi said with a chuckle.

You had barely had a sip, but if he’d buy that excuse, you’d take it. “Um, a little.”

“I should drive you home, then,” he said, voice suddenly sincere, “especially in this weather.” He seemed to be genuinely concerned for your safety. You only felt more embarrassed, and wondered if it were possible to sink into the floor and vanish out of existence.

“I should be driving _all_ of you home,” he continued, gesturing at the three of you with his whiskey bottle.

“By the time the rain lets up, I’ll be stone cold sober,” Tracy grumbled.

“I was actually going to stay and finish copying documents for the ambassador,” Colleen said, not-so-subtly elbowing you in the side. You jumped.

“Um.” You said.

Javi offered you his hand to help you stand up.

“See you ladies in the morning,” Javier called over his shoulder as he left, beckoning you to follow.

–

So that was how you ended up driving home in the rain with Javier fucking Peña.

He insisted on taking his jeep; when you protested about how you were going to get to work in the morning, he said he’d pick you up. “All us embassy workers live in the area, anyway.”

“You get the nicer apartment,” you pointed out.

“Hey, I’m the one getting shot at,” he grumbled.

You didn’t really know the extent of his involvement with local law enforcement, or what exactly he did when he was out “in the field,” but from what you heard around the office, it was pretty intense. Javi didn’t elaborate, so you didn’t push the subject.

You decided gazing at him like a giddy schoolgirl for the duration of the car ride was probably a bad idea. You scanned the inside of his jeep instead—his satellite phone on the floor near your feet, an empty can of soda in one of the cupholders, and what looked like half a box’s worth of condoms in the other. Wide-eyed, you stared at them and tried not to blush. Was he really that brazen about his sex life? You _had_ overheard his colleagues teasing him about his meetings with informants…

Javi glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Yeah, those are for when I go to Denny’s,” he said, voice perfectly placid.

You nearly choked on your own spit. “You _heard_ that?” You squeaked.

“Hard not to,” he said with a chuckle, “you three were shrieking like hyenas.”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, and for the second time that night, you desperately hoped for a fissure to crack open in the ground and swallow you whole. You settled for tightly wrapping your sweater around your torso and intently studying the jeep’s ceiling for the rest of the trip.

After a while, Javi killed the engine. “This is you, right?” He said, pointing out your apartment building. You snapped back to attention.

“Uh-huh,” You said, voice half an octave higher than you intended. You cleared your throat. “Yeah.”

Javi looked at you with a bemused expression. “Let me walk you up to your apartment,” he said.

“It’s right there, Javi,” you said, heartbeat hammering against your chest.

“And we’re in Bogotá after dark,” he insisted, picking up his leather jacket off the backseat and shrugging it on.

He had a point, you had to admit. So you let him walk you across the street, sharing your umbrella, your shoulders pressed together so you could both fit under it. Mostly fit, anyway—the wind made the rain come at an odd angle, and you both still managed to get damp.

Once you were indoors, you shook out your umbrella and walked down the hallway until you got to your apartment. You heard Javi follow behind you, his wet shoes squeaking on the vinyl flooring.

You took out your keys and unlocked your door. “Thank you for driving me home, Javi,” you said, turning to face him. Feeling bold all of a sudden—maybe because you could easily run into your apartment should things go awry—you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

This seemed to take him by surprise. He looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before his expression softened. “My pleasure,” he said, and the low, smooth tone of his voice nearly made you shiver. Or maybe you were just cold from the rain.

Feeling even bolder, you opened your door a little and nodded towards it. “Want to come in? Dry off a little?”

Javi looked at you intently. “Hm,” he said. “Maybe for a minute.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat. You hadn’t spared a thought as to what you’d do if he said yes. Well, here you go.

You opened the door and let him into your humble little apartment. It wasn’t perfectly tidy, but it was presentable. Thank god you’d picked up your laundry off the floor yesterday.

You hung up your umbrella and your sweater by the door and headed to your tiny kitchenette. “Want something to drink?”

“Whiskey, if you have it,” he said, “and none for you.”

You felt your face heat. “Um,” you started. “I’m… I’m not actually drunk, Javi.”

Javi didn’t seem surprised. He just smirked at you. “I had a feeling,” he said. “So you made me drive you home… just because?”

You bit your lip and averted your eyes. Any shred of courage you had had flown out the window at this point. “I didn’t _make_ you do anything,” you said in a rush. “I just didn’t want—just wanted to…”

“What did you want?” He asked. He leaned in a little, just enough for your heart to lurch in anticipation.

That bastard was teasing you and you knew it. It was clear to you now that he knew you had a crush on him. Was it funny to him? Why was he doing this?

“I asked you a question,” he said.

“You _know_ what I want, Javi,” you said, defeated.

“Just making sure,” he said before crowding you against the refrigerator and pressing his lips against yours.

You were so shocked that it took you a moment to respond.

He pulled away. “Is this okay?” He asked, and his lips were so close you could feel his breath against you while he spoke.

You nodded vigorously. “This is more than okay,” you said, bringing your hands up to rest against his shoulders before leaning in and kissing him.

He hummed a pleased sound, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. You’d never kissed a man with a mustache before—it tickled a little against your upper lip but you didn’t mind in the least. 

You tentatively ran your tongue against the seam of his lips and he eagerly parted them. When he licked into your mouth, it sent a shock of pleasure down your spine, making you arch your back—

right into the handle of your refrigerator. Ouch.

You grimaced and rubbed at the spot where it had dug into your back.

Javi winced in sympathy. “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

You took him by the hand and led him over to your couch. He sat down and pulled you in to straddle his lap, hands on your hips. You kissed with renewed fervor—god, Javi was a talented kisser—and you let your hands wander from his shoulders to his chest and down his sides. You decided his jacket was getting in the way and tugged at it. He got the message and hurriedly shucked it off and tossed it to the side.

His wriggling around to get the jacket off made his thigh press against your cunt. You gasped and fisted his shirt in your hands. You rolled your hips against his thigh, then, deliberately, chasing the friction. Javi noticed this.

“Do a lot of dry humping at Denny’s?” He teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

You stilled, and quickly hid your face in his shoulder. “You really heard everything, huh.”

“I didn’t say stop,” he said, urging your hips forward. You rocked against his thigh again, and the friction was _so_ fucking good you wanted to cry. You couldn’t help the keening noise you made as you began to ride his thigh in earnest, burying your face in the material of his shirt and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his aftershave and the subtle smoke of his afternoon cigarettes.

One of Javi’s hands was on your hip, encouraging your frantic rutting, while the other hand came up to stroke your hair. You picked up the pace, chasing the release that you knew was so close, _so_ _close—_

“Gonna cum?” Javi asked quietly, the vibration of his voice against you making you shiver.

You let out a desperate little moan and nodded against his shoulder.

With that, he grasped your hips tightly with both hands, stilling your movements. You whined at the loss of sensation, trying to rub against his thigh again and getting nowhere. Backing away from his shoulder, you attempted to give him a death glare.

“Let me show you something better,” he said. He kissed your neck, open-mouthed and wet, before pulling you close to his chest and flipping you around so that you sat on the couch and he knelt on the floor before you. He inched your skirt up your thigh and kissed every new expanse of exposed skin, until he hit a roadblock—your shorts.

Confused, Javi lifted up your skirt all the way to examine this uncharted territory, the expression on his face not dissimilar to the one he used when poring over aerial maps of hidden cocaine labs. He quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Shut up,” you said, “they’re comfortable.”

“They’re in the way,” he chided.

You quickly undid the side zip on your skirt and pulled it off along with your slip shorts in one fell swoop. “Now they’re not,” you replied, kicking the offending articles of clothing away.

He stared at you for a moment, totally gobsmacked by your sudden commitment to immodesty.

After he recovered from his brief bout of shock, he thumbed the waistband of your underwear. “You forgot something,” he teased.

“Oops,” you replied.

Javi pulled on the elastic of your underwear and dragged them down and off, tossing them over his shoulder irreverently.

For a moment, you panicked. What if he didn’t like what he saw? You kept things well trimmed down there, but you heard that some girls shaved _everything_. And what if you—tasted weird? What if—

Your thoughts were silenced when he swung your knee up onto his shoulder and buried his face between your thighs. He gently parted you with his fingers before dragging the flat of his tongue against your clit, wet, hot, _perfect_. You cried out and wildly grasped for his hair, tugging on it with desperation. You felt him smile against you, the smug bastard, before he dove back in, lapping at you with short, firm strokes.

It was like your brain was short circuiting. You had no idea it would feel this fucking good. Your hips hitched up against him, chasing the heat of his tongue. Without skipping a beat, he easily slid in two thick fingers inside of you, moving them in time with his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you gasped out, pulling on his hair. He moaned, and the low rumble of it was heaven on your cunt. He went from long, slow licks to fast flicks of his tongue, and just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, he’d go back to the original soft and leisurely pace. It was bliss and it was _torture_ and you were pretty sure your vision was beginning to blur around the edges. You were awash in sensations: the obscene sounds of his mouth against you, the sturdy material of his shirt underneath your leg, the tickle of his mustache against your cunt, and _god_ , his tongue.

Then, without any pretense, he latched onto your clit and _sucked_.

You practically screamed, thighs clamping down on either side of his head. He didn’t let up, kept sucking on your clit like his life depended on it. Your orgasm hit you _hard_ , wreaking havoc on your body, making you tremble and shake like a rag doll. Javi worked you through it with the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue, and god, it didn’t _stop_ , just kept rolling through you in waves. You were only tangentially aware of the obscene cries tumbling from your throat, the hot tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, and the creak of the couch as you writhed against it.

Soon, it was too much, and you pushed at Javi’s head with a trembling hand. He pulled his mouth off of you, his fingers still inside as your cunt fluttered around him.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, running his unoccupied hand up and down your leg in a soothing motion. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, pupils blown wide.

“Well,” you said as you looked down at him, trying to catch your breath, “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Javi gave you a devilish grin. “I think I can make that a second time,” he said before burying his face between your thighs once more.

_Fuck_.

–

Later that night—after making you orgasm three times with his tongue and fingers, and once more when he was inside of you (not before ducking back out in the rain to grab some condoms from his jeep—look, it’s not like you were expecting to get laid, you didn’t buy condoms unless you needed them), he lay next to you in bed, sweaty and spent.

“You know,” he said, “it’s a shame we don’t have a Denny’s in Bogotá. I could really go for some pancakes right now.”

You pinched his side and he swatted your hand away playfully.

“You’re lucky I like you, Peña,” you mumbled.

He kissed your forehead. “That I am.”


End file.
